


Brought into Alignment

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Forced Feminization, Gen, M/M, Other, Slurs, gross narcissism, t-plus six hours from breakthrough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dennis has problems. He knows this. But sometimes, if he's lucky, he can use another man's problems to provide him a temporary solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brought into Alignment

**Author's Note:**

> Something of a sequel to Warring Compulsions(http://archiveofourown.org/works/2857820), though one is by no means a prerequisite to the other.

Dennis is on edge, already forced to the brink of his ever decreasing patience and stamina as the itch deepens. It sinks through his psyche, worming through his id and ego and all the buzzwords the doctors use. He knows it is there. He tells himself that it isn’t an itch, that it’s the Others, that the Voices are screaming at him again and that they just want to get out. There are many voices in his head, but they all have his voice, and the itch has only gotten worse.

It has been only a few hours since Dennis escaped, and he first met the Groom, and he is well acquainted with the screams echoing up from below.

“We need to go down.” He has to speak through clenched teeth, his tension keeping him locked in place as he tries to think. There is so much static in his brain. So much need. He tries to remember what the Groom said to him, their stuttered conversations had in the haze of differing delusions, and he clings to the terms of affection.

 _Darling_.

“He wants a wife.”

 _Beautiful_.

“He wants a _companion_.”

_You. And me._

“H-He wants _company_.” Dennis’s whisperings do not mention the others. The Voices, the Others, have done nothing to relieve his itch.

“I want company too.” If a doctor was here, they would take notes. They would note his pronouns of choice. The use of the singular. The lack of plural references. The need, the growing desire, the _yearning-_

Dennis scratches the upper portion of his arms, fingernails digging into rough fabric, and he can feel (can _want_ ) the first layer of skin sloughing off. There is desire here, desire thick and strong, and the jumpsuit is suddenly too small for him. Dennis takes a deep breath. His heart is set to explode with need.

His fingernails scrabble against wood, the palms of his hands sweaty as he gets to his feet, and he lifts himself over the barrier protecting him-separating him-from the Groom.

The stairs. It would be so easy. It is so easy. Dennis is descending, stumbling down stairs like a drunken teenager, and he can feel the itch under his fingernails. There is more darkness here, down in the Groom’s domain, and Dennis makes sure not to touch anything. He needs to find one thing. It will be simple.

It will be _so simple_.

Dennis grabs at the doorframe, allowing himself a choked scream. He can taste his need. There is blood in the air here, but Dennis cannot taste it. There is a greater goal.

“Darling?” Dennis grips the wood under his fingers. He can do this. He just has to say the right things. He just has to be brave enough for this. “The-The Groom?”

Noise stops, somewhere on the floor. Dennis closes his eyes, forces himself to reopen them. Footsteps make the ground shake.

Did the fucker find boots?

Dennis can’t tell if the light is changing, because he’s been in the dark for so long now that nothing is visible. He can only hear, now, and he takes short and shallow breaths to try and determine if Gluskin-Patient Gluskin, the murderer, the one from downstairs-is even listening.

“Darling.” It’s another voice. Another human voice. Another human voice focused _entirely on Dennis._

“I-I came back.” It’s difficult not to go back to the Voices. It would give Dennis another voice to listen to. But he needs to get through this.

“Darling?” Questions. Dennis doesn’t want questions. Dennis wants this man to believe in him. He needs this.

“I came _back_.” Dennis tries again. He can hear footsteps closer. Breathing, labored and rough. Dennis can taste the other man, can feel him, his presence impossible to miss as the space between them is reduced.

“Da-“ Gluskin is close, now. “ _Darhling-_ “

“I-I’m here, I’m _here-“_ Dennis leans forward, trembling with anticipation, and there is suddenly a hand on his shoulder.

 _He’s done it_.

“I’mm so _sorry, darling_ , they mean _nothing to me_ -“ Gluskin-this man has acquired a name now, a proper name, for Dennis, and the idea of holding two separate concepts of self is difficult for the smaller man. He leans forward, pressing himself to Gluskin, and the Groom is already moving to pull the man into a tight embrace.

“Yes, _yes-_ “ Dennis manages to let go of his doorframe, letting the Groom grab at him however he wants, because this is another person who has no hesitation in paying attention to Dennis. Dennis has had sex in the past, of course, before he came to Mount Massive. He remembers times, fumbling at the bras and the bare bodies of anyone who’d so much as smile at him, and there is much of his younger self in Gluskin as the other man cradles him close.

Something moist is pressed to Dennis’s neck, and he represses a shudder. These are Gluskin’s lips. The man is kissing him, tongue and saliva working against Dennis’s collar as if there is a great secret hidden there. Dennis smiles to himself in the darkness, breath hitching in his throat, and he willingly steps back as Gluskin runs a hand along the inside of his thigh.

“We will make you so _beautiful_.” Gluskin is slurring his words, drunk on the responsiveness of Dennis, and Dennis can understand the feeling. He fights through his haze, the clearest he’s been able to think in weeks-no, in _months_ , without the Voices-and he knows he has to leave. He’s heard the screams. The one other patient unlucky enough to run into Dennis’s floor was forced back down, and that one still had enough words to describe where Gluskin’s knife was aiming.

Gluskin has not found his knife yet.

Dennis squirms against him, flinging a hand out to try and find his doorframe again. His hand finds flesh instead, cold and clammy, and as Dennis pulls down, something falls. There is the sound of cracking bone, and Gluskin stumbles as he is broken from his worship of Dennis’s skin.

“What-“ Gluskin is releasing him, and Dennis is happy. Dennis turns, moves, escapes Gluskin’s hands as the other body distracts him, and he backs into the darkness while Gluskin curses at a former victim.

“Darling, please, she was nothing-“ More claims. Dennis isn’t a doctor. He doesn’t pretend to know what Gluskin’s problems are. But Dennis knows that this is his chance to escape, and he creeps back into the darkness. Silent and secure. This is what will save him, and even if his pleased rush is already subsiding, his need to survive is greater than the itch. For now.

“Come back-please, come back, this was all a mistake-“ Gluskin’s voice wavers, caught between a scorned lover and a lost little boy, and Dennis stays close to the walls. Gluskin isn’t angry yet. He is easy to escape. “Darling, you-“

The switch is as audible as a snap of a willow branch against bare skin.

“-you _left me_ -“ Gluskin nearly chokes on his rage, beginning to pace like a caged tiger. Dennis is escaping. Dennis is fleeing those heavy, heavy footsteps. He can see the stairs. It will not be difficult.

“ _Just like all the rest!”_ Dennis begins to run, knowing that the time for secrecy is over, and he allows him just one little Voice as he pitter-patters up the stairs. The Groom is senseless in his anger. He cannot locate Dennis’s noises.

“W-Water pushes up, th’ pipes all clogged-“ Dennis is nearly doubled over as he emerges into the light, the single lightbulb still functioning on his floor, and he makes the tremendous leap back onto the top of his barrier. He lifts himself up, arms shaking with the effort, and he lays for some time on top of the boxes.

“Y’ fuckin’ idiot, you little cock-sucking fuckhead-“ The Brother is awake, awake enough to disturb Dennis as he shakes atop his boxes, and he tries to ignore the words in his mouth as he clings to the pleasant rush. Someone else had touched him. Someone had worshiped him. It was a good feeling.

But he couldn’t go back yet. The pleasure was enough for now. He’d make it. The itch was sated, and all he’d have to do was wait until it got unbearable again. And up here, he could talk to his Voices all he wanted.

And now, he had the memory of Gluskin’s hands on his body to carry with him.


End file.
